On the 30 year anniversary of the Philadelphia Zoo's World of Primates Fire
Rita and Jinga Gula, 1996, acrylic, gauze on paper, 47" x 60"
On December 24th 1995, 23 primates died of smoke inhalation when a fire broke out in the building where they were housed at the Philadelphia Zoo. Six gorillas. Three orangutans. Four gibbons. Ten lemurs.
The orangutans were Rita (a wild born Bornean orangutan, approximately 30 years old), Samarinda (an 18 year old, first generation zoo-born orangutan) and their child, 3 year old Jingga Gula. You can read more about the incident here.
Samarinda is survived by his son Mia at the Hogle Zoo. Rita is survived by her daughter Violet at the Honolulu Zoo.
Jinnga Gula with White-handed gibbon Octavian, who also died in the fire. Of Octavian, his keeper wrote: "The interspecies play he engaged in with Jingga was incredibly touching. It was as if they really saw past each other’s exterior. If only humans could behave this way."
Photos of Samarinda, Rita, and Jinnga Gula from Animal Keeper's Forum
The paintings at the top and below are from artist Sally Linder's series "Re-Membering the Primates," painted in response to the tragedy from reference photo's provided by zoo keepers of the deceased primates.
I highly encourage you to read more about Linder's process here and here. Below is an excerpt of her writing about her trip to Borneo, where she symbolically returned the captive animals to their native habitats:
I left two days ago for Mt. Meratus, a protected mountain in one of East Kalimantan's remaining primal forests on the island of Borneo. For 48 straight hours we traveled by jeep across a burned and ravaged landscape. Today the road ends and we continue on foot. Indigenous Dayak and Kutai men, employed by Wanariset to watch over the mountain and its orangutans, appear out of the impenetrable green, standing like noble trees, traditional swords hanging quietly against their thighs. They lead us to Meratus' summit and the burial site.
The orange earth gives herself to the shovel, a blossom opening to the new day. I unroll the five paintings, offering the memories of the orangutans and gibbons to their home soil. Open and eager to receive, Earth takes back her children. Following Dayak tradition, a single piece of tree limb marks the burial site. The dirt and the humus are carefully replaced, closing the wound. The tribesmen gather, hands with me and encircle the sacredness. Overhead five rare wreathed hornbills circle once, twice, three times, their massive wings disturbing the silence and calling us to attention. And then they are gone. Five hornbills, five paintings.
Samarinda, 1996, acrylic, gauze on paper, 50" x 53"
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